Lives of great men are far less sublime than Longfellow thought, and
their letters often prove it. If Sigmund Freud had not put his genius
into psychoanalysis, even his son Ernst would have seen small reason
to assemble this bundle of his father's correspondence, some of it
already mined by Ernest Jones in his famed biography of the Master.
Freud's letters are not brilliant, witty, or especially intimate. But
their truculent honesty...